War Wounds
by Kismet23
Summary: A postep for The War At Home. Alex and Bobby deal with the aftermath of the events of that episode.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:_Law and Order: Criminal Intent_ and its characters are the property of

Wolf Films, NBC, and some other rich and powerful people, of whom I sadly am not one. I own nothing but a twisted little mind, and am receiving no cash or prizes for writing this.

Author's Note:

For those of you who are reading my story "Self Healing," it will be continued. I got a bit thrown off by the events of "The War At Home," as my story has at least a casual relationship with Season 6 episodes, and I couldn't figure out a way to work in those events but remain true to the universe I created.

So I decided to completely ignore that episode for the purposes of "Self Healing (nyah nyah CI writers), but "The War At Home" was so effecting, it needed its own post-ep, completely standalone.

The following story is the result, and I know my take may be controversial (and fanwanked to within an inch of its life, by the way), but that's the fun of writing and watching fiction – it's so subjective.

The story is rated M for language and adult situation, so if you have delicate sensibilities, turn back now. And it's complete; this is the whole thing.

Sorry for such a long note, but I felt the need to explain. Anyway, if you've made it this far and decide to read this story, I'd like to know your opinions, good or bad, so please review.

Thanks for bearing with me.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex drove home in a thorough funk. In more than a decade on the force, and nearly seven years as partner to "crazy genius" Bobby Goren, she could honestly say that today had been the worst day of her professional life, and one of her worst personally as well. Though she had come to expect the unexpected, and even the unwanted, from her complicated colleague, not since the earliest days of their partnership had he shut her out so completely. She had always prided herself on her ability to break through to Bobby even when he was mired in his own darkness, and today she had failed utterly. This failure, and its inevitable fallout, made her question whether the bond she had come to rely on so completely, especially lately, held the strength she had always assumed it to. Perhaps she had overestimated her relationship with and importance to Goren, and that thought was one to keep her up nights. It hurt, dammit, and it hurt worse to feel that he just didn't care. Whether Ross took him up on his offer to be fired or not, she knew that their continuing to work together had to be in question. Very few partnerships survived the kind of cracks in the foundation that had been revealed today, and even if Ross didn't question Goren and Eames' future together, Eames herself was having serious doubts.

Bone-weary and ready to crash, Alex felt relief wash over her as she approached her home. It had taken time, and hard work in therapy to feel comfortable here again, and she was proud of this accomplishment. Grabbing the duffel she'd thrown on the front seat, she headed inside, stopping long enough to collect her mail. In an instant her heart was pounding. _Someone's in my house._

A dreadful déjà vu froze her in place momentarily, but she recovered quickly and drew her gun, having dropped her belongings to the floor. Moving swiftly and quietly, she ascertained that the intruder was not in either the living room or kitchen. Swallowing terror and bile, she proceeded cautiously towards the master bedroom, and entering, nearly gave herself an embolism as rage overtook her.

"YOU GIGANTIC PIECE OF SHIT!" she screamed, causing the large lump on her bed to move suddenly. Sitting up, disoriented, the object of her ire was stunned when her shoe hit him square in the chest.

"Oof..ouch. Eames, is that you?"

"Who the fuck else would it be, Bobby?" she shouted, near tears and hating him for it. "Jo Gage?"

Had she shot him point-blank, his face could not possibly have shown more shock, pain or remorse. Caught in his own anguish, and desperate to make things right with this woman, who had never done anything but support him, he had never considered what it might do to her to find someone waiting in her home. Again. In a moment he knew that whether she ever forgave him for this selfish stupidity, he would never be able to absolve himself. Knowing that somehow gave him the courage to approach her. _Help Eames, even if she hates me._ His knees nearly sagged at the sight of her, but he managed to stay on his feet by remembering that she needed, if not him, and almost surely not him, someone right now. Having removed her shoes to throw at him, she looked even tinier than usual, and the gray hue of her face was frightening. _Shock. The adrenaline's wearing off, but her body is still feeling the aftereffects. _Gently approaching from behind her, he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other across her shoulders. Though she struggled a bit initially, he simply held her tighter, knowing that her strength was about to completely flag. Keeping a light pressure through his arms, he began to slowly rock her side to side. He had seen this technique used at Carmel Ridge, and of course by every parent with a crying infant; it mimicked the rocking motion of the womb, creating a feeling of safety and security. Knowing there was nothing else he could do to make it right, he simply rocked.

_Get your hands off me, you selfish bastard. _Alex' thoughts were furious, but her body would not obey even the most basic commands. She was shaking so hard she thought she could feel her teeth rattle, and she just did not have the energy to fight off the embrace of her bear of a partner. He was murmuring in her ear now, alternating between assurances and apologies, and though most of her wanted to turn and knee him in the balls, a small part of her began to relax, knowing that for all his faults, she was always physically safe in his presence.

Bobby, for his part, was heartened when he felt Eames relinquish, and allow herself to be held. Whispering his regret into her ear, the softness of her hair at his lips, he selfishly reveled in this power to simply hold her. For days all he had wanted to do was collapse into her, and ask her to hold him up, and his inability to do that had played no small part in his rage. Even if she never spoke to him again, hated him forever, he would have this moment, when each drew strength and comfort from the other, to sustain him. It took all his self-restraint not to let the tears brimming in his eyes fall in a storm, but this was about her, not him, and remembering that gave him resolve. He felt her shivering begin to quiet, and with regret, loosened his grip so that she could get away if she wanted to.

"Why were you in my bed?" she whispered, not yet moving away.

Embarrassed, he muttered quietly, "I was drunk. When I left the squad, I went up to Carmel Ridge and saw my mother, who by then had calmed down and was perfectly content. So I came to your neighborhood, went to the corner bar, and got good and drunk. I…I thought I'd come over and apologize, but you weren't here, so I, uh, used my k-key, and then you weren't here, and I was so tired, and…I was drunk." _And it smells like you, so it made me feel better,_ he added silently.

Alex wasn't quite sure what to make of this new information. On the one hand, she was enormously relieved to hear that Bobby's mother was better, and happy that he had come to her immediately after learning that, but she was still furious with him, both for the scare he'd thoughtlessly given her, and his earlier behavior. She still felt strongly that, hugging and apologies aside, their partnership had been dealt what could be a fatal blow. Breathing deeply, she summoned the will to step away from Bobby's embrace. Turning to face him, she kept her expression guarded. "Are you still drunk?"

His eyes were shadowed, and his emotions sank at the loss of her physical proximity. "No, I slept it off, and-and the adrenaline…" He let the thought hang there, loath to relive the terror he'd put in her eyes.

"Good," she nodded, having successfully regained her composure. "We need to talk."


	3. Chapter 3

He hung his head as he followed her into the living room, feeling like a man about to face his execution. _Please don't cut out my heart, Eames. _He sat listlessly on her couch as she made a pot of coffee. Without a word, she handed him a cup, them sat as far away from him as was possible for two people who were sharing a piece of furniture. Sighing, she spoke with a shaky voice, "Do you want to tell me what the hell happened today?"

_Fuck, no, you'll leave for sure. _But Bobby knew he had no choice. He had hurt them, hurt her, and his only chance of mitigating the damage was to lay all his cards out on the table, and pray for her mercy.

"I d-don't know if any explanation could make it better, Eames. I-I, treated you, uh, unforgivably, and I wouldn't, uh, blame you if you stayed angry at me or if, you, you wanted a, uh, new partner."

While it upset her to see him so unsure of their relationship, the truth was that he hadn't misjudged her feelings. She had never been this angry with him, and she was finding it impossible to say anything reassuring. Whatever else was wrong between them, Alex had no plan to start lying to him now. But neither did she want him to feel so hopeless that he shut down again. She spoke quietly, "I'd like to hear what you have to say before making any decisions."

He nodded, understanding that she was willing to hear him out, but unwilling to give him false hope. "You know about my mother, and um, you've met her, so you've seen how she can be."

"Yes."

"She was afraid of the radiation treatment, but more than y-you or I would be. She was convinced that she had sub-par doctors, and, uh, she wanted me to stay with her and make sure they did everything r-right. And I would have, but then…" He ran his hand through his hair, and Alex could physically feel his need to pace. _Well, let him sit still for a change._

"But then you got called into work," she prompted.

"Yeah, you know"

"Yeah, I know, Bobby, so did I. And so did Ross. And we both tried to be sympathetic and understanding, but it was as if the only person whose life got interrupted was you. You acted as if you didn't even hear us speaking to you" _And that shit's okay to pull with the new captain, but not with me._

"I-I know," he said, eyes cast down in shame. "I didn't even think about it, w-what you or Ross or anybody else was doing or going through." This, of course, wasn't entirely true. He had thought about what Eames was doing. Unfortunately, that had only served to fuel his anger. _You were having a normal Thanksgiving, something I could never be a part of. _After so many years of thinking only of caring for his mother and occasionally himself, he almost resented Eames for making him care enough about her to think of her, too. While it was true that he selflessly put his mother first in his life, there was a self-absorption that came naturally when your focus was so narrow; only after his blowup at work had he realized how rude and uncaring he must have seemed to her. He wasn't certain if he could explain why she had been the target of his anger, but he at least owed it to her, and to himself, to try. He looked up as she began to speak.

"Look, Bobby, I realize that the situation with your mother was impossible, and I really don't blame you for being upset and angry that you had to leave her like that. So if you'd blown up at Ross, or blown up at the force at large, I would have understood, and I would have backed you up, 100. But you blew up at the victim's father, who just happens to be our fucking boss. And forget that, he was her father, and you couldn't bring yourself to be decent to him." She was just warming up now, and Bobby winced in anticipation of what was to come. "And you kept blowing me off, no matter what I did. I asked how your mother was, you ignored me. You looked away. And when I had the audacity to call you on your bullshit, you treated me like…like…"

"Like a stranger," he whispered. "Like someone I didn't know, and didn't give a damn about. I know. I did it on purpose, Eames."

That got her attention, and she felt that little part of every Irish woman that retains the spirit of the banshee stir, ready to scream out its grief in the face of loss. She spoke through clenched teeth, "You hurt me like that on purpose?"

Bobby shook his head vigorously. "No, I protected me like that on purpose. I didn't think about it hurting you; I just thought about keeping myself together. Not losing it."

Alex stared at him in disbelief. "That was you keeping it together? Because it looked a whole lot like you out of control."

He stared at her, an unfamiliar darkness in his eyes. "That's not what would have happened if I'd lost control."

The tiniest spark of fear stirred within her, but she couldn't stop herself from asking. "What would have happened, Bobby? What would have been worse than that?"

"I-I can't."

"You damn well have to, Goren. Whatever it is, it's in the way of our partnership, our…what I thought was our friendship. I'm not afraid of you, or of anything you can say. I'm afraid of what will happen to us if you don't say it." Her pleading eyes sought his, her pain and, even now, concern for him so evident it finally broke his finely constructed wall of self-restraint.

With a choked sound like an animal caught in a trap, he propelled himself forward, startling her momentarily, until she realized that he was crying. He buried his head in her chest and sobbed as if his heart were breaking, which of course it was. Out of primal instinct, friendship, and, she realized, love, she wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could, kissing his hair and murmuring words of comfort. For his part, Bobby just let it all out; the pain, the fear, and the grief, finally getting what he needed; a safe place to be a mess, and someone who would think no less of him for it. Trembling in her arms, he felt the weight of all that had happened in the last few months lessen from his shoulders, his anguish dulled moment by moment as he reveled in the feeling of acceptance and belonging. It occurred to him that she understood; had put aside her anger and confusion to simply nurture him. _This must be what love is._ He knew that this was what peace was.


	4. Chapter 4

Once she felt that Bobby had exhausted his supply of tears, Alex spoke quietly. "Do you feel any better?"

"God, yes," he muttered, unwilling to leave the serenity of her embrace.

"Is that why you acted like such a dick? You were afraid of having me comfort you?" While she didn't want to push him when he was so fragile, Alex knew they needed to get everything out in the open to stand a chance at making it through together. "I would have understood, Bobby. I _do_ understand. You're so worried about your mother…"

Disbelieving, he raised his eyes to look at her. "I knew _you_ would understand, Eames. That just made it worse."

"What do you mean?"

Gently caressing her back, he tried to explain himself. "Every time I looked at you or heard your voice, all I wanted to do was to b-beg you to, to let me get lost in you. And I couldn't …" he gestured to their position, "do this because of the fucking job. The one person in the world who would catch me when I fall, and I-I can't…" He shuddered in frustration, unable to express what he needed to.

Tears springing unbidden to her eyes, Alex prodded gently, "You can't what, Bobby?"

"I can't just…just…" he closed his eyes against his own words "…love you. I can't just love you, Eames. I have to think about the fucking rules, and my fucking career, not to mention yours, and I can't have what I want! And most days I can…deal with it, but every time you reached out to me, to help me, maybe because you…all I could think was 'this is torture.'" And I got angrier and angrier, so…I lashed out at you. And I shouldn't have. But I knew…I thought…"

Now stroking his hair again, Alex allowed her own tears to fall. "You knew I would forgive you."

Incapable of words, he just nodded against her chest, afraid to look at her for fear he would see anger, or worse, pity, in her eyes.

Kissing his cheek, she whispered, "You were right. I forgive you."

Overcome with relief, he pulled her even closer, and she could just hear his soft words of gratitude, like a private prayer.

When they had both regained some measure of self-control, she spoke. "Why do you think you can't love me, Bobby? What's stopping you from feeling however you want to?" She watched as he looked up at her, puzzled.

"I said that wrong, I guess. I c-can love you, and I…do, but it's not enough anymore. It hasn't been enough for a long time, Eames, but it's been so much worse since you, uh, since the kidnapping. It's like all I want is to take you somewhere safe and be there with you, and I can't. It's like being a kid who gets to go to the candy store, but isn't allowed to eat anything. It sucks."

She couldn't help herself; the combination of being compared to a forbidden sweet, and the unprecedented use of slang by her erudite partner undid her. She laughed; a throaty chuckle that made Bobby shift uncomfortably.

"Stop that," he growled, "or I won't be responsible for my actions."

"You just likened me to a jujubee, used the word sucks, which I'm stunned to discover you even know, and I'm not allowed to laugh?"

"Not like that you're not. And I hate jujubees. You're more like a truffle."

Now she was truly laughing, not noticing that strong arms were pulling at her, and her position was changing. Before she knew it, she was prone on her sofa, with her partner gently but definitely laying atop her. She stopped laughing at the look in his eyes.

He had every intention of getting what he wanted this time.

"So you've forgiven me?"

Mutely she nodded, mesmerized by his intense gaze. _No wonder Wallace keeps coming back for more. I'd tell him anything he wanted to know right now._

Leaning down so their faces were millimeters apart, he began his interrogation. "I'm glad you forgive me, Eames, but I've laid out all my feelings to you, and you haven't said anything. That's not very fair."

Unable to tear her eyes away, she gave him the best hard-ass glare she could manage at the moment, suspecting it would hardly fool him. "You came here tonight because you knew I'd forgive you. Don't try to pretend you don't know why."

He relaxed. "I know you love me, Eames. When I'm rational, I know it like I know my name. What I need to know is if that's still enough for you, or if you w-want more, like I do."

What more he wanted was becoming abundantly and somewhat insistently clear.

Raising a hand to touch his stubbly jaw, she answered, "I do love you, Bobby, but you just listed a lot of very good reasons why wanting more and having more are two different things for us."

He smirked, "Yeah, but my ass might be fired anyway. And the truth is, as much as I love my job, I can't sacrifice everything to it anymore. You saw the results of that today. If all those reasons went away, what would you **want**?"

Her eyes never leaving his, she simply said, "You."


	5. Chapter 5

She felt his physical reaction to her answer at the same time she saw his eyes flash. In and instant he brought his mouth to hers, kissing her so hungrily they were both soon struggling for breath. Releasing her mouth, he took his on a journey of her ears, neck and chest, his stubble fueling the fire his lips and tongue had started. Burying her hands in his hair, she encouraged his actions, feeling her hips instinctively thrust up against him, making clear her intentions and making him moan in a baritone she hadn't known him capable of.

Anxious to be more interactive, she tugged insistently until he brought his face to hers again. Placing a hand on either side of his head, she kissed him long, slow and deep, not at all violent, but unarguably intense. Feeling him shiver against her, she smiled and felt him do the same against her mouth.

"Jesus." He pulled away to look at her, realizing that every fantasy he'd ever allowed himself had paled in comparison to reality. Just kissing this woman was sending his body temperature skyrocketing; it occurred to him that making love with her might actually kill him. _But I'll die a happy man._

Congratulating herself on rendering Bobby Goren speechless, _oh yeah, I got it like that, _Alex almost missed his shy whisper.

"I love you, Eames."

"I know, Bobby, and I love you too," she said, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. "But you can probably call me by my first name now, you know."

Now smiling, he brought his mouth to her ear to whisper, "I love you, Alexandra."

Was it possible for a human being to liquefy? She'd have to ask him at a less inconvenient moment, but Alex was certain that she no longer possessed bones or muscles; his voice on her name like that had made her so hot she was sure to have melted completely. Deciding that slow and gentle no longer suited her needs, she began to remove his shirt, shaking hands fumbling with the buttons; if she had to tear it off with her teeth, fine by her.

His hands were busy as well, caressing every inch of her that he could get to, which he soon realized wasn't nearly enough. She nearly protested when he pulled himself up and off her, but her agitation was brief, as he leaned down to pick her up and carry her to her bedroom, kissing her all the while. _Dear God, I'm in the middle of some cheesy romance novel. Soon he'll be ripping my bodice._

And while Bobby was far too much of a gentleman to actually tear her clothes, the moment he put her down at the foot of the bed, her shirt flew across the room without her conscious awareness of how, soon to be followed by the rest of her clothes, and his. For the briefest of moments they just stared at one another, drinking in their first sight of themselves as lovers. Alex felt her breath catch in her throat, and saw his chest heave as he looked at her. Before she had time to revel in that moment, he gave her a not entirely gentle shove onto the bed, and his body followed hers immediately.

It was, she thought, something like being caught up in a hurricane of passion. There was so much going on, an intense sensory overload, and yet at the center of it was a peace like none she'd known before, a sense of rightness and well-being that brought them both to tears emotionally while they brought each other to explosive heights physically. Somewhere in the midst of all the fireworks, the touching and kissing and fondling, the whispers and cries and screams, a new entity of "us" was born, so that when he entered her, it was for both of them a moment of familiarity rather than strangeness, an inevitable completeness as well as a new sensation.

When their bodies collapsed in exhaustion, sated for the moment, they remained joined while their minds took a moment to catch up. Looking up at him, she realized that some part of her had known this all along, as some part of him had; that they would be this way together, and that this knowledge, and the fear of not reaching this destiny, had fueled their earlier rage and distress. She reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes, and he leaned down to kiss them from hers, both secure that whatever happened tomorrow or next week or next year, they could always return to this together.


	6. Chapter 6

Some time later, she wasn't sure how long, when thirst and hunger had finally driven them from her bed, they were seated together on her couch, eating what Bobby had called "emergency casserole," a concoction only to be attempted when one's cupboard was pretty much bare. She knew that he would make sure to stock up her cabinets in the near future; his gentle teasing about her lack of domesticity aside, the man needed to eat, and she dreaded the weight gain in her future. He was a damn good cook, and he would make it his mission to stop her habit of living on coffee and sugar. _Oh, well, every relationship has its downside; he'll have to deal with me chubby if he insists on actual meals._

Suddenly she remembered something. Hopping up, she went to her duffel, which she had unceremoniously dumped on the floor earlier. Digging through it, she finally came up with what she wanted, and hid it behind her back before returning to him. Going for her best sexy strut, which she thought might be diminished by the fact that she was wearing Bobby's shirt and pink fuzzy socks (she was wrong; Bobby found that particular getup extraordinarily stimulating, but she wouldn't learn that until later), she sauntered up to him, cooing "I've got something for you."

_Oh my god, Eames is a freak. I knew it! _Bobby looked up at her, wearing a 'cat that ate the canary' look and rocking his shirt like nobody's business, and wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky, and just what toy she had in store for him. He was almost, but not quite, disappointed when he saw what she had in her hands. Smiling at her, he thought he'd have to explore his earlier assumptions at a later date; this was too important to interrupt with discussions of kink.

Taking his portfolio from her almost reverently, he asked, "You brought this home? Why?"

Sitting back down beside him, she stroked his thigh. "If you weren't coming back, I wanted it, and if you were, I wanted you to have to deal with me to get it."

"That's fair," he chuckled, "though I'm a little afraid of what I would have had to do for you to return it to me."

Leaning in closer to make sure her intent was clear, she purred, "Oh, honey, you already did it. But I'm not against your doing it again."

They got very little sleep.


End file.
